


Great Love (Pt. 4/?) - Flowers

by ohdaito



Series: Great Love [4]
Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Not Blaine Friendly, Not Klaine Friendly, kadam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-06 23:25:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1112752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohdaito/pseuds/ohdaito
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You could date two people or two million people, but that one great love is unforgettable. True love stories never have endings.” A Kadam-centric Epic about Kurt’s life after the Klaine proposal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Great Love (Pt. 4/?) - Flowers

A nervous, steady knock at the door echoed around the calm apartment. Rachel and Santana both looked at each other, glaring. Santana sighed and grumbled under her breath to a smug Rachel before getting up from the couch to answer the door.

She slid open the door, expecting Blaine to burst in with flowers for Rachel or a new recipe for Kurt. She kept _telling_ Kurt to get a Blaine Calendar so she would know when the toddler was coming by.

But instead of a pink ‘70’s blazer in front of her, she was met with a blue striped shirt and pendant necklace. She raised an eyebrow, and she leaned against the doorway, blocking Rachel’s view to the hallway. She smirked happily. “Adam, how good to see you.”

* * *

“Kurt, dear, why don’t you come over after your shift today, hmm?” Isabelle said idly as she rearranged the roses on her desk. “I get so lonely, you know.”

Kurt looked up, startled. “I know you don’t get so lonely, Miss Belle, if the tales of your sexual escapades are any true.” Isabelle snorted and plucked a petal from a bright rose.

“Oh, maybe I misspoke.” Isabelle grimaced slightly. “I know how _you_ get so lonely.”

Kurt shook his head sadly and set down his tablet. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I’m not so sure I can come over.”

Isabelle nodded. She strode over to her desk and placed the petal in a small jar and crossed her arms loosely around her chest. “Okay. Another time, then.”

* * *

Kurt was asleep on the couch with his head tucked underneath a pillow when Rachel strutted into the room, her heels clicking against the floorboards with an almost obnoxious air. In her arms lay an open laptop with a grinning Blaine on full-screen and on her face a grin that stretched for miles.

“Oh, would you look at him sleep,” Rachel crooned to Blaine over the webcam. “There’s your fiancé, so tired!”

Blaine smiled and stared adoringly at Kurt’s silent figure. “How handsome he is. Hey, Rach, can I talk to you about something?”

Rachel shifted at his suddenly serious tone but agreed nonetheless. She took the laptop to the chair opposite Kurt’s still body and perched it upon her crossed legs. “What’s up, Blaine? Are you getting cold feet about your upcoming nuptials?”  

Blaine shook his head vehemently. “Of course not! Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

Blaine’s eyes darted over to Kurt before he looked back to Rachel in worry. “I think Kurt is cheating on me.”

Rachel gasped, nearly jumping up. “Blaine! Explain yourself!”

“I didn’t come to this conclusion overnight, Rach. I’ve been watching him, and I know the signs! I’ve read many articles on how to tell if your spouse is cheating on you, and the signs are there,” Blaine muttered sadly. Rachel shook her head in disbelief and looked over to the couch, toward Kurt’s sleeping form.

His face was half hidden by the pillow he had burrowed himself under, and his hair was an absolute mess because of it. Rachel began to grow concerned and convinced; in all her years knowing Kurt and in the last year living with him, she had never known him to willingly muss his hair before he went to sleep. The blanket draped lazily over his body slipped to expose his work clothes, still adorning his body. Rachel’s eyes widened.

“Oh, my. Now that you mention it, he has been acting really un-Kurtlike lately. I trust you, Blaine. And I trust your judgment,” Rachel murmured. “I just can’t believe it.”

“I need to ask you something, and as my close girlfriend, please answer me honestly,” Blaine said, large brown eyes pouting. Rachel nodded. “Is there anyone you would think Kurt would cheat on me with?”

Rachel started, surprised and taken aback. She opened her mouth to speak but quickly closed it. This conversation was turning far too cruel for her tastes. But with one look at Blaine’s pouting face, she sighed.

“I’m sure Kurt’s told you a little about him,” she said softly, staring at Kurt. “His name was Adam.”

Blaine spluttered in shock and anger. “Kurt told me they weren’t really a thing! That-that everyone wanted them to be together but he didn’t feel it!”

Rachel shrugged, but at Blaine’s glare, she continued, albeit reluctantly. “I don’t know about that, Blaine… I _personally_ was not very fond of Adam – y’know, compared to you, but they were pretty close.”

Blaine’s glare intensified, and through terse lips he muttered, “How close?”

“Blaine, this conversation is getting really uncomfortable for me –“

“Rachel!”

“Fine, fine. I once heard him telling Santana that he was in love again.”

Blaine was silent for a long time before he finally spoke. “Tell me about him.”

Rachel shifted awkwardly. “I don’t think it would be right to tell you, Blaine.”

“Tell me about him,” Blaine repeated tensely.

“Ah, well, Kurt and Adam met at NYADA. Adam was a senior, and, y’know, we were freshman, so he was about four years older. He had this… huge crush on Kurt. And Kurt _really_ liked him, too. He told me one day that Adam was sophisticated and handsome. Um, appearance wise, Adam was a bit taller than Kurt, had wavy blond hair, defined cheekbones. Oh, and he was British,” Rachel said softly.

“Is that all you know?” Blaine demanded when Rachel finished. She sighed and shook her head.

“They dated for a long time. Adam sent flowers to Kurt’s work at least once a week – really pissed the receptionist off, I heard. Um, Adam was also the leader of a Glee club here at NYADA, too, _the Adams Apples._ Kurt joined that, too. Adam made sure Kurt had solos. For dates, they, uh, spent long weekends at Adam’s apartment, took walks through Central Park, and Adam even gave Kurt a tour of the city through a Brit’s eyes, which I heard was funny…”

“Rachel, you’re making me sick.”

“Well, you wanted me to tell you about him.”

“I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!” Blaine almost shouted. “Kurt’s cheating on me with that stupid, stupid Adam guy! Rachel, I have to go. I’ll text you later.”

Suddenly, Blaine’s livid face disappeared from the screen, leaving Rachel to stare at the lonely Skype logo alone. She sighed and set the computer down on the table before retreating to her bedroom.

From the couch, Kurt’s wide eyes blinked in devastation and blinked away tears.

* * *

“What about tonight?” Isabelle asked suddenly, standing up from her chair. The white roses on the corner of her desk shook nervously. Kurt glanced up from his report.

“What about tonight what?”

Isabelle smiled encouragingly. “Why don’t you come over tonight? You couldn’t make it last time, so raincheck cashed in.”

Kurt set down his papers and stared at his shoes. He could feel Isabelle’s concerned eyes on his head. “I can’t tonight. Blaine and I have a Skype date to discuss tie stylings for our wedding.”

Isabelle made a slight disproving noise deep in her throat before she plucked another petal from her roses and set it aside, just as she had done days prior. “Kurt.”

Kurt’s eyes travelled from her shoes to her face slowly. Isabelle shook her head softly and tutted. “Kurt, dear, you’ve been acting out of character the past few weeks – months even, if I may go that far. Just look at yourself. You’ve worn that suit two times already. This week.”

Kurt’s mouth drew open in shock and he jumped up from his seat and let his eyes rake over his body in the full length mirror. “What – how did I miss this?” he whispered to himself.

His boss crossed her arms across her chest. “Kurt, dear, I don’t want you to feel like I’m forcing you to come over. In fact, I don’t want you to feel like you’re _ever_ being forced to do anything.”

Kurt didn’t respond. Isabelle sighed. “I’m concerned for you, Kurt. I don’t believe your living situation is ideal given your circumstance – and if just for an old woman’s ease of heart, I’d like you to come over to see how the other half lives.”

Kurt grimaced. “And how’s that?”

“Happily.”

When Kurt became silent, Isabelle sat back down at her desk, sadly surveying the lone petal in front of her. “Shall we just take a raincheck on the raincheck?”

Kurt nodded shakily, lips quivering at he continued to stare at himself in the mirror.

* * *

“Oh, Kurt!” Rachel sang as she pranced into Kurt’s bedroom, where Kurt sat still on the edge of his bed, fingers pulling at the loose yarn of the blanket next to him. She took no notice to his downtrodden state and continued to pace around his room. “I’m about to head to the store. I need to know what you want for this weekend.”

“Just get what we usually get, Rachel,” Kurt deadpanned.

“No, not this weekend!” Rachel said, becoming irate. “Don’t you remember? Blaine’s coming over this weekend. You gotta spruce yourself up for him, and get out of this rut you’re in!”

“How does he even afford this?” Kurt mumbled to himself as the knuckles on his fingers turned white and tense. Rachel ignored him.

“I was thinking a nice, spinach salad and maybe steak burgers?”

Kurt sighed. “Rachel, you don’t eat meat.”

“Well, maybe just this once. He’s not fond of tofu.”

Kurt looked up, eyes slits. “You compromise everything for him, you know,” he snapped. “Everyone compromises for him. Go out and buy your tofu burgers, and we’ll have that. Santana and I don’t mind, and if he does, well, he’ll just have to suffer through his salad.”

When Rachel returned home later that evening with two bags full of groceries, she said nothing to him. And when Kurt saw her put the perfectly wrapped meat in the fridge, he had nothing to say to her either.

* * *

The floor was quiet and dark when Kurt tiptoed into Isabelle’s office late in his shift, timid and tired. “Uh, um,” he called out, “Isabelle?”

Isabelle poked her head up from behind her desk, smiling wearily. “Hello, Kurt. Finished that tax form yet?”

Kurt nodded mutely and handed over the stack of papers in his hands to her, before striding into the room and closing the door behind him. Isabelle’s face grew apprehensive as she took in his worn down physique, the minute drag of his feet against the linoleum, and the careless way his bangs draped over his forehead. He looked as if sleep was only a passing thought. “The offer you made a week ago… does that still stand, I mean – can I come over?”

Isabelle’s drawn, exhausted eyes widened as she came up to clasp Kurt’s hands in her own. “Of course it does, dear, of course! We’ll be able to talk, friend to friend, without the worry of eavesdroppers.”

Kurt shrugged, looking away and out the window toward the bright, New York landscape. The only light in his eyes tonight was a reflection off the city. Isabelle followed his gaze and sighed softly. She turned to look up at him. “Let me tell you something, Kurt.”

She strode over to her desk and plucked a third petal from her roses. Opening the second drawer of her desk, she pulled out the two other discarded, white petals and brought the three together. Kurt hugged his arms to his chest and walked weakly over to Isabelle.

She let the three petals sit in her palm for a fleeting moment, and then before Kurt’s eyes, slowly arranged them into another, smaller flower. She smiled and glanced up at Kurt.

“Remember, Kurt,” she said, voice soft. “Just like it is in fashion, nothing is ever lost. What you believe to be just… has to be reimagined and given a second chance.”

Kurt took the small flower from her hand and held onto it so tightly Isabelle feared it might tear. But with one look at Kurt’s frozen, flushed face, she knew it wouldn’t – couldn’t – tear.

“Come on,” she muttered, placing a warm hand on Kurt’s forearm. “I’ll order in some Italian and you can tell me everything, okay?”

* * *

“How unreliable,” Rachel huffed, crossing her arms angrily. “Honestly, he doesn’t even have the decency to call and _tell us_ where he is? I can’t believe him.”

Santana shrugged from her laid-back position on the couch next to Blaine, who looked equally as angry and irritated as Rachel was in front of them, pacing the floor. Santana kicked her legs up and draped them casually across Blaine’s lap. “Both of you calm down. Hummel is just out doing work business.”

Rachel turned on Santana. “Oh, yeah? How do you know that, Satan? If you ask me, he’s just ditching tonight to _cheat on Blaine!”_

Santana rolled her eyes. “Okay, Berry, you’re obviously turned up. Hummel called me, alright? Told me he was stuck at work,” she said, the lie coolly slipping through her lips. It was true, she knew, that Kurt called her, but he wouldn’t be attending dinner for the same reason Santana wanted out as well: the suffocation.

“Hey, Lopez,” Kurt had sighed into the phone. “I’m not coming to dinner tonight.”

“What? You’re leaving me here with the Wonder Twins by myself? C’mon, Hummel, step it up.”

“I just – can’t, Santana. I’m going over to Isabelle’s apartment to talk. I just need a night away, okay? I’m sorry; I’ll make it up to you. I promise!” he begged, voice hurried.

“Man up, Hummel, I’ve already stopped caring,” Santana said. “But just out of curiosity, is this whole skipping-out thing in regards to that conversation we had, you know, about King Henry?”

“Is admitting that the first step?” Kurt had murmured sadly before he said his goodbyes and let the dial tone ring out.

Rachel’s angry sigh resounded around the near empty room. “Well, still. He could’ve found some way to get out of it.”

“If Kurt still had a mother, you’d sound just like her.” Santana grinned roguishly. Blaine crossed his arms across his chest but said nothing.

Before any one of them had the chance to say anything else, three short knocks appeared at their door. Santana’s grin grew impossibly bigger as she jumped up to stalk her way towards the door. “I wonder _who_ that could be!”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Kurt without his keys, probably.”

Santana slid open the door with one hand on her hip and a smirk upon on her lips. “Hey, there, babe,” she said sweetly to the visitor. “Come on in.”

With Santana’s firm grip on his jacket pulling him forward, Adam Crawford entered the room with lost eyes and tousled hair.


End file.
